Shot Down
by Littleforest
Summary: [Complete] Two-shot. "But when it came to understanding what her senses were telling her, it was as if it simply wouldn't compute. Because Jane didn't get shot. He just didn't. Except he had."
1. Part One

**Disclaimer - **The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller and CBS. Not me. Obviously.

**A/N - **Hello again, my wonderful readers! Here I am with yet another story (I can't seem to stop them coming at the moment). This one will be short though, with only one more chapter after this. It's set sometime in Season 6, just after the introduction of Pike, although I can assure you that there aren't really going to be any significant spoilers for any specific episodes. This idea just popped into my head - as ideas often do - and I had to get it down. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**~ Shot Down ~**

**Part One**

* * *

When Lisbon first saw Jane go down, it didn't really register with her at all.

She heard the loud crack of the gunshot, saw the white flash of the muzzle as the bullet burst out; she even watched with wide eyes as the blood drained so quickly from Jane's face that it was as if someone had simply flicked a switch to cut off his blood flow. But when it came to understanding what her senses were telling her, it was as if it simply wouldn't compute.

Because Jane didn't get shot. He just didn't.

Except he had.

"Cho," Lisbon heard herself say, her rapid heartbeat pumping loudly in her ears. Her phone was in her hand, fixed to her ear as if it was a lifeline, although she couldn't for the life of her even remember fishing it out of her pocket. Her hand shook almost violently as she held onto the small device, and she took a deep, shaky breath as she tried desperately to focus on what she had been trained to do in a situation like this, a task that was becoming harder and harder as the sight in front of her finally began to filter into her brain.

Oh God. Jane...

"Suspect's headed west on 51st Street," she managed to get out finally. "He's armed."

_"On it," _came Cho's immediate reply. Of course he was, she thought numbly. She and Jane had been undercover again, and every move they'd made had been monitored by their team at the FBI. Cho would have been "on it" as soon as the gun had been fired. Fisher, Abbott, Wiley; they'd all probably heard everything that had happened because of the microphones that she and Jane had been fitted with, and there was a good chance that there was a team of agents on their way as back up.

Too late, she couldn't help but think. They were all too late.

"And we need an ambulance here," she continued anyway, her mind almost numb with shock. "Jane's down."

Jane's down...

"It's bad, Cho," she mumbled, and then she hung up without waiting for his reply.

Shaking herself roughly, Lisbon staggered over to Jane, her eyes roaming almost numbly over his still body. Lisbon fell to her knees beside his head, the breath almost stopping in her chest as she saw the blood that was soaking through his white shirt so quickly that she couldn't help but wonder how Jane was still alive. She could hear his gasping, stuttering breaths though, and each one a lifeline to her, proving that Jane was still with them. That he was still with her.

"Stay with me, Jane," Lisbon told him, her voice hoarse and shaky. She grabbed his scarf - that stupid scarf he'd started wearing whilst posing as an art thief - and wrapped it into a ball before pushing it as firmly as she dared onto his chest, all the while praying that it would be enough to stem the flow of blood. She pushed as hard as she could, as if the more energy and effort she put into the task, the more chance Jane had of surviving the loss of all that blood.

There was so much though, and it kept coming, the scarf unable to quell the river of blood leaking through the hole that had been ripped open in Jane's chest.

"Oh God, Jane," she mumbled, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as she looked down at his deathly pale face.

This couldn't be it. It couldn't end like this. They were supposed to be okay now. Red John was gone, Jane was back in the US without being locked up in prison, and her brief fling with Pike had ended weeks ago. She stared at his chest, at the red - the bright, bright red - of the blood still seeping out of it, and choked back a sob. They were supposed to be okay.

"Lis...bon?"

Her gaze snapped upwards, her eyes widening as she realised where the croaky, unstable, but very much _alive _sound had come from. Jane's eyes were open, and although they were glazed over in pain, he was actually _looking _at her. He was still alive...

"Jane," Lisbon breathed, hardly daring to believe his eyes were staring back at her. She swallowed a deep lungful of air as she tried not to let her emotions overwhelm her, but she knew, deep down, that it was a losing battle from the start. "Jane you have to stay with me, okay. You have to stay awake."

"Hurts," he moaned, and it became very clear very quickly that he wasn't really in any frame of mind to understand what she was saying. His eyes were open but she could tell that he was barely conscious of his surroundings now, and she felt her heart tighten in absolute fear. He was going into shock...

"Stay awake," Lisbon repeated anyway, unable to get her mind working fast enough to say anything else. All she knew was that she had to keep her hands pressed onto his wound, and that she had to keep him awake. She had to...

"But...m'tired," he mumbled, blinking up at her heavily, as if it was almost impossible for him to keep his eyes open.

"Stay awake," Lisbon ordered when his eyes stayed closed just a second too long, the desperation clear in her voice. "Stay with me, Jane. Help's on the way. You're going to be alright, Jane. I promise. You're going to be alright."

It was a mantra that reverberated around her head - desperation, hopelessness and disbelief all rolled into one - because honestly, she couldn't imagine Jane not being alright. He was Jane. Despite everything, he was always alright.

Except there was so much damage to his chest. So much blood...

"Promise?" he choked out, and Lisbon could see the fear - the absolute, debilitating fear - in his expression. She couldn't bear to see it, and yet at the same time, she couldn't seem to drag her eyes away. Jane; the man with the never-ending supply of masks, the man who always had a smile, even in the darkest of times.

He had never seemed as open to her as he did now. So completely vulnerable and without his usual guile. So completely and utterly himself.

That terrified her more than anything else.

"Yeah, Jane," Lisbon replied shakily, tears finally spilling from her eyes. "I promise. You're going to be just fine."

"Just...fine," Jane repeated, his voice almost a whisper. He was weakening now, she could see it in his eyes...

"Jane, just stay with me," she said desperately, pushing the scarf into his wound with even more force, to the point where she knew it had to be causing him a great deal of pain. He didn't even flinch though, and when he finally closed his eyes - obviously too exhausted to keep them open for a second longer - not even her pleading, her cries, nor her prayers to a God he didn't even believe in, could get him to open them again. She choked out a sob, and pressed harder, but in the end it made little difference.

He was gone.

* * *

**A/N - **Ah, how cruel it would be to leave it there. Fear not, my readers, there will be a part two coming soon! For now though, please let me know if you liked this short beginning, and whether you'd like to read more. As always, I'd love to hear from you! Until next time, and as always, thanks for reading!


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer - **The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller and CBS. Not me. Obviously.

**A/N** - Hello, and welcome to the second part of this story! Thank you so much for your kind words after the last chapter - I really hope this final chapter lives up to your expectations. I tried to include a little bit of everything (angst, fluff, romance etc), so I hope there's something here for everyone! Please let me know what you think, but most of all, enjoy!

* * *

**~ Shot Down ~**

**Part Two**

* * *

Jane's heart failed again on the way to the hospital. The EMTs had managed, miraculously, to restart it when they'd arrived on the scene, but his grip on life was still so tenuous, so weak, that there was a genuine concern that he wouldn't even survive the ride to the hospital.

Lisbon pulled in a shallow breath as she watched from the back of the ambulance as the two EMT's work tirelessly on Jane's chest, trying desperately to get him breathing, to staunch the blood flowing from the wound, and to get his heart pumping again; all in all, trying to steady his condition long enough to get him into surgery to repair to damage. The ambulance was speeding through the streets, the siren blazing loudly as it darted through the traffic at a speed that would have been dangerous for any other vehicle, but even in spite of this Lisbon found herself willing it to go faster, to get there sooner, because Jane just _didn't have time._

Her hands shook violently on her knee, and she clenched them tightly as she continued to watch numbly as the EMTs fought for Jane's life. She would have been worried about being in the way in any other situation, but this was _Jane, _and she had to be there for him_. _

She didn't want to let Jane out of her sight, not now, not like this, because she couldn't help but feel that if she did, even for the briefest of moments, that she might lose him for good. Lisbon had never been so scared by anything in her life, and she felt as if she needed every little bit of faith, everything little bit of superstition she had in her to make sure he survived. Jane would have hated it, just as he would have hated her praying for him, but she could no more stop that than she could stop breathing.

Because in reality, she was so powerless.

When the EMT's started shocking Jane's heart again, it made her feel so sick that she just couldn't bear to watch anymore. So instead she forced her eyes down, praying under her breath with a force that would have terrified her had it been anyone else on that bed clinging on to life. Shakily, she unclenched her fists, trying not to think about how close he was to dying, how close he was to leaving her. Jane's blood was still splatted across her hands though, and she ached to wipe it off, to get rid of its damning presence from her skin. Because there was so much blood, and Lisbon wasn't sure she would ever be able to fall asleep again without seeing it splashed horrifically across the forefront of her mind.

"He's crashing again!" came the shout from one of the EMTs, and it struck Lisbon that she must be in shock, because she didn't even remember them getting his heart started again.

Oh, God, she thought, swallowing back bile. He wasn't going to make it…

For the next few minutes she couldn't seem to catch her breath, and it felt as if her world had constricted into just this place and only this moment. It felt as if _this_ was all that mattered, as if her very presence on this Earth was utterly dependent on Jane surviving. She felt her heart tighten in terror at the very thought that he might not, and in the end that thought was so terrifying that she pushed her anxiety, her _fear_ away as if her life depended on it. Which she couldn't help but think it did. She had never relied on anyone to the extent that she now relied on Jane, and if he somehow _didn't _make it, she wasn't sure what she was ever going to be the same again.

Even as the EMTs continued to work valiantly in order to make sure that didn't happen, the morbid thoughts continued to go round and round Lisbon's head until she was so dizzy she thought she might puke again. Her head felt hot and overloaded, and it was as if her breaths were stuck in her throat as she stared at Jane's still body, watching wide eyed as they shocked him over and over…

"He's back," one of the EMTs said, but Lisbon still couldn't breathe because she was so close to losing him…

Her heart was still beating loudly, erratically in her chest, and it was all she could do not to fall into a full scale panic attack. She clenched her fists tightly against her sides, willing herself to calm down, forcing herself to remember that he was still there.

The EMTs were working tirelessly still, and Lisbon knew in that moment, that in spite of all her fear, and in spite of all her desperation to simply close her eyes and pretend that this wasn't happening, she couldn't give up hope that he would make it. She was a cop, dammit, she told herself forcefully. She had seen worse, she had been through worse, and _Jane would make it through this._ Because he had been through worse too, and he deserved a second chance at living. He deserved to be happy.

She clenched her fists tightly again, and closed her eyes.

Please, let him be alright, she prayed. Please.

* * *

As soon as they arrived, they whisked Jane away in a flurry of shouting and movement, and Lisbon was left standing numbly in the hospital reception with absolutely no idea what to do with herself, and no idea where to go.

Eventually she found a chair in the waiting room to collapse into, but she was so keyed up that she knew already that trying to rest was a losing battle. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, and her body felt so exhausted that if it hadn't been for the worry and adrenaline flowing through her at alarming speeds, she knew she would have collapsed unconscious on the floor in a second.

Hours later, when Cho and the rest of the team joined her to let her know that they had caught the man who had shot Jane, Lisbon barely reacted. She knew she should be happy about it, and at some point she probably would feel some sense of vindictive pleasure that the man had been caught and would pay for his crimes, but all she could think of at the moment, and all she could focus her exhausted mind on, was Jane.

It had been hours…why hadn't anyone been out to tell her that he was okay…?

"You okay?" Cho asked, immediately taking a seat beside her. He didn't comment on her blotchy face and shaky hands, simply sitting beside her with an air that said he wasn't going to be getting up any time soon. She had never been more grateful to count Kimball Cho as a friend.

"No," she replied honestly, because she was too tired to lie to him, and because he deserved nothing less than the truth.

He nodded, but he offered no false platitudes, no chorus of "It's going to be okay", "Jane's strong, he'll make it", or any of the other countless clichés that were made for a situation like this. Instead he simply offered his silent support.

The others followed his lead, and Lisbon was surprised by how many people stayed in the waiting room, and how many people from the FBI genuinely seemed concerned and anxious about Jane's condition. She almost smiled. Only Jane could make friends with the people who were essentially blackmailing him into working with them.

She choked back another sob. He had to be okay. He just had to be…

"Family of Patrick Jane?" came the tired voice of a doctor as he entered the waiting room. He seemed surprised when all twenty-plus people in the waiting room stood up at the same time, but Lisbon wasn't. Jane might have lost one family all those years ago, but there was no doubt about it that he had found another - however unconventional - family in them.

"That's us," Cho said bluntly, as if daring the doctor to question it. To his credit, the doctor didn't.

Instead he sighed, and Lisbon felt a tendril of anxiety run through her as quickly as electricity.

"Well," the doctor continued. "I'm afraid I have some good news and some bad news…"

* * *

It was the beeping that first made its way into his tired mind. The monotonous, ridiculous, irritating beeping that sank into his thoughts and dragged him from the painful darkness.

_Beep…beep…beep…_

What was that? His thoughts felt like mud; sticky, heavy and difficult to move through. In fact, he could barely seem to form a coherent thought that wasn't confused or erratic or just downright _tired or painful_.

_Beep…beep…beep…._

With a concerted effort that sapped some of his precious energy, Jane tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt far too heavy to lift, and he gave up after a few failed tries. He could feel his heart beat increasing, partly in panic and partly in desperation and confusion, but he couldn't seem to calm down. His brain was working too slowly, too sluggishly, as if it was still trying to catch up to the situation, and his body felt strange, as if it was disconnected from his head.

God, what the hell was that infernal beeping…?

_Beep…beep…beep…._

"Jane…are you…awake…?"

The voice broke though the monotonous pattern, breaking into Jane's mind like a ghost though a wall. He tried to place it, but his mind was nowhere near its usual brilliance, and his thoughts were exhausted and useless.

"Jane…?"

_Beep…beep…beep…_

Who was that? The question floated to the front of his mind, and when it got there it refused to budge. Who was talking to him?

It wasn't Angela, that much he knew for sure. Angela was dead, and no amount of exhaustion or sluggishness was going to make him forget that fact. It was definitely female though, Jane decided, his heart beat quickening once more as he fought against the fog in his mind.

"Jane…if you're awake…open your…eyes…"

He definitely recognised that voice! He couldn't place it at the moment, but he _knew _them. They were friendly, they weren't going to hurt him. It would be safe to do as they said. He could open his eyes…

With a strain, Jane tried to push his eyes open again, but the effort tore the energy straight from his mind, and left desperation in its place.

"Please…Jane…open your eyes…"

_I'm trying_, Jane told the voice, although in the back of his mind, Jane realised that they wouldn't be able to hear him.

_Beep…beep…beep…_

He tried to take a deep breath, but the movement must have knocked something in his chest because the next thing he knew there was a shooting pain running through his entire body.

God, that hurts…

_Beep…beep…beep…_

"Open…eyes…"

With one last effort, drawing on every energy reserve he had, drawing on the pain that was still throbbing in his chest, Jane focused on his eyes, pushing them with everything he had.

"That's it Jane," the voice praised, and if he wasn't already so focused on his task, he would have smiled. As it was, it was taking all he had just to get his eyes to open.

_Beep…beep…beep…_

After one final push of effort, finally his eyes opened, the bright light filtering in so quickly that he was forced to blink rapidly to avoid being permanently blinded.

Ow…

Jane blinked again, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. All he could make out was white – wherever he was, he concluded tiredly, it was very, very white…

"Jane…"

He brought his tired gaze over to the voice, only to meet green eyes tinged with concern and relief. He recognised those eyes too, if only his mind would catch up with him…

"Lis…bon?" he croaked finally.

There was a noise then, something between a laugh and a sob, and Jane almost smiled. He was on too many drugs though, and he was so, so tired. His chest felt like it was on fire as well, and despite wanting nothing more than to talk to Lisbon, to let her know that he was okay, he just couldn't seem to stay awake.

Almost against his will, his eyes felt shut again, and he was soon dragged back down in the dark, down, down, until he knew no more.

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Jane was able to stay awake for longer periods of time, but he struggled to get his mind working into any semblance of its usual coherency. He had a lot of visitors in that time, mostly FBI, though Sam and Pete had managed to come and see him as well. Even the Rigsbys had been by, and Ben had even drawn him a card to try to make him feel better.

He was touched by the sentiment, but he knew it would take a hell of a lot more to make him feel better. His chest felt simultaneously like it was on fire and also like it was about to collapse inwards. He'd known, intellectually of course, that gunshots hurt, but this was unimaginable.

Of course, Jane thought, feeling particularly maudlin this morning, it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart, pain he had thought he was long past feeling.

Lisbon hadn't been back to see him since he had first, rather sluggishly, woken up. And that hurt, almost more than the gunshot, because he _needed _her more than he'd ever admit aloud. Jane did his best to push this thought away, well aware that he had no right to expect anything from her after the crap he'd pulled over the years, but nonetheless disappointed that she hadn't been by to see how he was doing.

Cho, somewhat surprisingly, visited him quite a lot. He was a good man, Jane thought, and he found himself grateful that Cho was there in Lisbon's absence, because at least he, unlike his other visitors, wasn't afraid to tell Jane the truth. On one of his visits, Cho had explained how he'd been shot during an undercover mission, that the bullet had hit him in the chest just below his lungs, and that his heart had stopped several times before they'd managed to repair the damage. Cho had then told him that Lisbon, who had been with him on the undercover mission, had probably saved his life, stemming the flow of blood as much as she could before the ambulance arrived. Jane hadn't known what to say to that, but he was grateful for the knowledge anyway.

On another visit, Cho had told Jane - in that typically blunt way of his - that he'd been in a coma for almost three weeks before he'd finally woken up, a fact that both shocked and terrified the consultant. Cho had gone on to tell Jane, with a knowing look in his eyes, that Lisbon had been to see him every single day, talking to him, sometimes even pleading with him to wake up, and Jane once again found himself confused and a little hurt that she wouldn't come and see him now. Had he done something wrong...?

"It's not you, man," Cho had told him, apparently having seen exactly where his thoughts had gone. "She just needs time."

And so Jane had given her time. He hadn't tried to break out of hospital to go and see her, he hadn't even tried to pickpocket a phone from one of his visitors so that he could call to see if she was okay. Instead, he'd behaved himself, taking medicine as directed, sleeping when he was told to, all the while thinking that if this was what life was going to be like now, he wasn't sure how glad he was that the bullet had missed something vital.

Now, well over a week after he'd first woken up, Jane stared up at the white ceiling of his hospital room, counting the cracks for the hundredth time, and allowing his misery to swell up in him. Cho had already been by once today, and probably wouldn't be able to come back until tomorrow, particularly if they picked up a case, meaning that for the foreseeable future, Jane had only his own morbid thoughts to keep him company...

"Jane?"

He jerked up, and then immediately regretted it when white hot pain flashed through his chest. It was all he could do not to cry out, and he held his breath tightly in his chest as he tried to ride the wave of pain that rushed through him.

"...you okay?"

He nodded forcefully after a couple of minutes, finally allowing himself a small breath. When the pain wasn't too bad, he allowed himself another. Slowly, and after using every biofeedback trick he knew, Jane was finally able to get himself back under control.

"Lisbon?" he asked hoarsely, uncharacteristically unsure as he turned to face her. She was as white as a sheet, and the dark circles under her eyes gave her lack of sleep away.

"Are you sure you're okay, Jane?" she asked, concern obvious in her expression.

"Fine and dandy," he lied, holding in the cough that wanted to burst from his chest. He frowned instead. "Lisbon, what are you doing here?"

She seemed hurt by his question, but Jane couldn't bring himself to take it back. Because in spite of himself, he was hurt too.

"Cho..." she began, fiddling with a thread of her jacket, "He kept me up to date with how you were doing. And I'm sorry I haven't visited you, I just...I didn't...I guess I was scared of seeing you."

He frowned even more deeply. "But I don't understand - "

"I don't either," she shrugged, taking a seat in the chair by his bed. "Cho kept telling me to get over it, but I just...I couldn't..."

"Lisbon..."

"Dammit," she told him, her voice breaking with barely supressed emotion. "You scared me, Jane."

She turned away then, and Jane knew that it was because she didn't want him to see her cry, to see her shed tears over him.

"I know," he said, his own voice shaky, and he knew in that moment that he had already forgiven her. She nodded jerkily in reply, but still didn't turn back. "Lisbon, please look at me."

She didn't want to, he could tell, and yet he had to look her in the eyes, had to tell her how _sorry _he was. Suddenly he knew exactly why she hadn't been to see him, why she couldn't even look at him now. Because he knew what it was like to lose someone he loved, and he hated that he had almost done that to her, that he had almost made her feel that same gut-wrenching pain.

"Lisbon, please," he said again, allowing his emotion to leak into his words.

"What, Jane?" she muttered, almost sounding like her usual grumpy self. He almost smiled in reply, but when she finally turned to look him in the eyes, her cheeks still wet with the tears she'd shed over him, he felt as if the air had been knocked from his chest again.

"I'm sorry," he told her, without any guile, hoping that his sincerity was coming across to her. Because he was; he was _so sorry…_

"I'm just…I'm glad you're okay, Jane," Lisbon replied, taking a deep, apparently steadying breath.

"Me too," he replied wryly, before he frowned deeply again. "Are we okay?"

"I…I don't know," she replied sadly. She stood up then, fresh tears falling down her cheeks, and Jane felt any words of defence die in his throat. Without another word, she fled from the room, and Jane had to supress the urge to follow her. Instead, he allowed her to go without a fight, leaving him alone in his room and with a whole different kind of pain rising in his chest.

* * *

She came back ten minutes later.

In that brief time apart, Jane had managed to convince himself that it was all over, that she'd finally had enough of him and was ready to move on without him. When she slowly made her way back into his room for the second time that day, Jane almost pretended to be asleep, because he was in pain, he was exhausted, and – despite the fact that he knew that she deserved so much better than him - he knew he couldn't take her rejection, not now.

The old him, he knew, would have mocked him for acting like this, for caring what Lisbon thought of him, for wanting her to like – even love –him. But the old him had been buried a long time ago, and the new him just didn't know what to do in a situation like this. For once in his life, Jane didn't know what she was thinking, and it scared the hell out of him.

"Jane?" Lisbon asked cautiously, coming to stand by the side of his bed. "Look, I'm...I'm sorry I left. Can we talk?"

"Of course," he replied, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. He swallowed hard, desperately trying to regulate his heartbeat into something at least resembling a normal rhythm.

"I really am sorry I ran out like that," she offered when he didn't say anything further. "It was stupid, I know…but it was all a bit much…"

"I get it," he said, mostly because he _did_ get it, but also because he knew that she needed to hear that he understood. He allowed his gaze to drop down though, desperate to look anywhere but her eyes, desperate not to see the pain and regret swimming in them.

"I don't think you do get it," she said sadly, and Jane felt his heart skip a beat in the most terrible of ways. He still refused to look up though. He couldn't look up...

He sighed instead. "Lisbon…"

"Jane, I'm tired of waiting," she said heavily, holding her hand up to stall him before he could speak, before he could even begin to defend himself or beg her not to leave him. "I thought you'd _died_. I thought I'd lost you. I was so _scared, _Jane. And as relieved as I am that you're going to be alright, I'm still completely _scared _of losing you. I just...I don't think I can carry on like this."

"What, so we're done?" he replied hoarsely, finally bringing his gaze up, and making no attempt to hide his emotions. "Before we've even started – ?"

"No, Jane, you're not hearing me," she told him. He felt his heart thudding in his chest, but he couldn't seem to drag his eyes away from her. "I thought when we moved to Austin together that something would change between us. Red John's gone, you're a free man, and Pike's out of the picture. But nothing did. Nothing changed, Jane, and I'm tired of waiting for it to."

"Lisbon…"

"Jane," she interrupted gently, moving closer to him. "I'm tired of _waiting_."

And then she kissed him, and he couldn't help but think that maybe getting shot wasn't such a bad thing after all.

* * *

**A/N – **So what did you think? Fluffy enough? Angsty enough? Enough whump? Or a good balance of all three? Please let me know! I may add a sequel in the future if there's enough demand for one, but for now, consider this little story complete. I hope you liked it!

If you, like me, are a fan of 'Jane in pain', and want to read more stories like this, please check out the community 'Crimson Pain' (you can find it under the communities on my profile). I'm a staff member, and I'm proud to say we now have the largest collection of stories for the Mentalist on this website. I also update it quite regularly with all the new and wonderful stories on this site where Jane is hurt, so if you subscribe, I'll do my best to make it worth it for you.

I've also written a number of other Mentalist stories as well (mostly one-shots, but there are a couple of multi-chapters as well) so please check them out. And finally, if you want to find out where I got my inspiration, look no further than my favourites list. Every Mentalist stories I've ever enjoyed and loved is there, and I urge you to read every single one of them! It'll be so worth it, I promise you! For now though, thank you for all your support so far, and most of all, thanks for reading!


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